


Snowflakes

by MizDirected



Category: Mass Effect
Genre: Christmas Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-09
Updated: 2015-12-09
Packaged: 2018-05-05 21:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 939
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5391596
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MizDirected/pseuds/MizDirected
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-war moment of quiet and peace for Garrus and the woman he loves.  </p><p>Merry Christmas, Bee.  Lovely friend, saviour of my writing.  ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snowflakes

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theherocomplex](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theherocomplex/gifts).



At night, when the moon gleams silver over English Bay, the silhouette of the Rockies a slightly darker shade of black against the ruined city, he can almost forget they fought a war at all.  Almost.  Except for the dreams.

 

Abandoning the warmth of their bed, the soft, sunset glow of the fire, he retreats out to the balcony.  There is solace in the dark, a peace completely without expectation or demand.  Such peace is a gift in a galaxy that needs so much, demands so much.

 

No.  That is the province of the day.

 

Closing his eyes, he braces his hands against the balcony railing and leans into it, lifting his face to the moon.  Humming a soft subvocal of relief, he breathes deep, allowing the frost-tinted air to clear away the last of his nightmare.  It was, after all, just a dream.  The war passed and they made it through.  Perhaps not entirely intact but together.

 

Behind him, she murmurs in her sleep, but settles, and he allows his senses to return to the silent night air.  It carries a chill sharp enough that her skin would lift into a million bumps, and she’d shudder, a small, delicious tremor as his talons skated over them.  Another rumble rolls from his throat, his mandibles and talons flexing at the memory of her skin … her scent … the silkiness of her hair as it slips through his hands … the cool softness of her lips on his hide.

 

He breathes and tries to let his mind drift.

 

It’s cold, but the night is silent.  Giant fluffy conglomerations of ice crystals begin to cascade down, tickling as they land and melt on his hide.  It’s meditative, and he’s not cold enough to return indoors.  Besides, sometimes when it’s quiet, he can hear their voices.  They’re never quiet, never blissful or reverent, but they weren’t in life, so why would they be in his memory?  No, they’re boisterous, they talk too fast, and swear far too much.  Ever beautiful though, captured in perfect moments in time.  It eases the loss.  A little.  Sometimes.

 

He hears her feet, bare and padding across what has to be an icy floor.  He left the door open.  Then a blanket wraps around his shoulders, so warm it makes his talons curl and sends a delicious shiver up his spine.  He sucks in a deep breath, the cold air biting deep inside his nostrils, cold iron.  She steps around him, bare skin shining silver in the light.  After a moment spent at his side, her hands pressed to the snow-covered railing, she looks up at him and smiles.

 

“The world is covered in frosting.”

 

Brow plates raised, he stares at her, surprised by sudden whimsy from such a practical woman.  He leaves it unmarked, just returning her smile before one brow plate lowers.  “Aren’t you cold?”

 

A tilted shrug brushes her shoulders.  “It feels nice.”  She turns her face to the moon the very way he had moments before.  “I used to love going for walks during the first snow.  Loved the way it turned the world a million shades of blue and purple … sunset without all the noise from the sun … the little, silent tents of darkness where the snow bent over the grass.”  She pulls in a long breath, and he watches, captivated by her.  "It's strange to see the moon and snow.  Maybe mother nature sent a snow cloud just for us."  Craning her neck, she looks further up.  "Set it right over our heads."

 

She seems to glow, to ignite within, her skin barely containing the fire of her spirit.  

 

Spirits, she’s breathtaking.  The scars that cover her body anchoring her beauty in reality. 

 

Then she turns and steps into the circle of his arms.  He wraps them, and the blanket, around her as she moulds herself to his body.  “Mmm, so warm.”  She lays her head against his chest.  “Right this second, it actually feels like Christmas.”  A happy hum trills in her throat.  “I love the snow.”

 

“Is it snow or ash?” he asks, only half-joking.

 

“Well, let’s see.”  She grins up at him, then tilts her head back and sticks her tongue out as far as she can, frozen in the ridiculous pose until one of the large flakes lands on the flat pinkness.  She smacks her lips a little, making a study of tasting it.  “Definitely snow.  Well, 85% snow anyway.”

 

He winces.  “That’s disgusting.”  He almost asks if she knows what else is mixed in with the frozen water, but doesn’t, loathe to shatter the moment.  So much ugliness awaits to be illuminated by the sun, and it can do just that … wait.  Under the moon, snowflakes drifting like wishes toward the ground, everything carries a sparkle of magic, even for two tough, jaded pragmatists like them.

 

So he hugs her tight, savouring the feel of her body pressed to his, and bends to nuzzle the top of her head.  “Merry Christmas, Shepard,” he says, his voice pitched to reinforce the quicksilver bubble of peace and contentment sheltering them.

 

She looks up, presses those impossible lips to his mouth, soft and passionate.  “Merry Christmas, Garrus.”  Glancing toward the moon once more, she whispers, the words scarcely a breath, “And to all of you … loved and lost.”  She tucks her face into the blanket, pressing kisses along his throat.  “You know, our bed will probably still be warm.”

 

He scoops her up into his arms and turns from the night.  The war is over, those they lost are at peace, and they came through.  Perhaps not entirely intact, but together.

 


End file.
